


your royal fucking higness

by Blepbean



Category: Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Dirty Jokes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Love Letters, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RWRB AU, Royalty, alternate universe - red white and royal blue, conversations about race and privellege etc., kids are aged up between roughly 17-20 for just the sake of things and it makes better sense, my humour has gone down the hill, though nothing explicit happens!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-26 05:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Kenji is the son of the first ever female president.Ben is the prince of England.In which they accidentally cause a scandal by falling into a $75,000 royal wedding cake and to fix it all up in a neat bow, they pretend that they were friends the whole time.“It’s cute how obsessed you are with him,” Yaz says. Sammy giggles.“I hate him.”“You love him, enemies to lovers, 300k, slowburn—”“You guys suck.”“—First son of the president falls in love with the prince of England? Match made in heaven,” Yaz says, deliberately softening her voice, he hates it.“But fuck the monarchy, not literally” Kenji says,“I’ll drink to that,” Yaz says. Kenji laughs, and the plan soars through the sky.
Relationships: Kenji Kon/Ben Pincus
Comments: 16
Kudos: 36





	1. cake scandal

**Author's Note:**

> omg hi besties, im gonna try to update this when i can and im so excited for this!!!! you dont have to read the red white and royal blue to understand anything
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated <3

_Rule #1 = DON'T GET CAUGHT_

It’s something Kenji has always noticed, tucked up in the roof of the White House. He discovered it after his tantrum back when they arrived when his dad decided to show up for pitty points— _they’re good now, maybe, sorta, but that’s besides the point—_ last minute to meet him and his mum.

It’s something that floats inside his head when he sits on his seat and decides to procrastinate on his law homework. The public will never see how much he’s falling under his studies, they’ll always see him as a chill and relatable teenager fashion icon whojust so happens to be the son of the president

He stares around at his minimalist bedroom, with ivy plants hanging from the walls, posters of _Frank Ocean_ in every part of his wall, with the exception of his desk wall, which is filled with photos thumb tacked with asian street fashion, recent newspaper that he ripped up and stuck on and study notes that he should really remember for his next exam. But, fuck it. His room is his own private area, filled up with plants from Sammy that’s taking in the bright sunlight that’s streaming through his window, mixing in with an airy, quiet feel that clashes against his rash and extroverted personality.

Kenji sighs, standing up to turn on his speaker. He thought he would play his songs from his playlist to relax/procrastinate up until Sammy burst through the door, with Yasmina tugging along beside her. They’re both wearing matching flower sweats which he thinks it’s the most adorable thing to exist.

“Uh, you guys mind?” Kenji gestures to his work space, “I’m like trying to study, I can’t be the—“

“— _the youngest elected congressmen without getting shit done_ ,” they both say in unison.

“I was studying,” Kenji scoffs.

“Don’t kid yourself,” Yasmina hums, she immediately hops on Kenji’s bed and scrolls on her phone. Meanwhile Sammy moves his papers away to sit on top of his desk.

“Ok what the hell are you guys doing here?” Kenji asks, “please tell me that there's nothing world ending you’re telling me.”

“Nah, but the new magazine photoshoot is out for all three of us,” Yasmina says from the bed.

“We looked so hot in that,” Sammy says.

Kenji immediately goes on twitter to find the photo, and there they are, in an all white background with Kenji’s simple monochrome pants and billowy button up shirt with a trenchcoat lazily thrown on top, his makeup looking like it’s straight out of euphoria. Sammy and Yaz are wearing both suits, all bedazzled with Gucci rings and accessories with Sammy opting for the softer white suit and Yaz choosing the harsher and edgier black option.

They practically broke the internet and pissed off a few conservative politicians. So all in on, they did their job.

“But how about the gossip for me,” Kenji takes a sip from his cold coffee, he grimaces.

“Don’t think the whole media revolves around you Kenji,” Sammy hums, then, “oh, it does.”

“Lay it all out on me.”

It’s something that’s a game for all three of them, by all three it’s only him and Sammy while Yaz sometimes chimes in because she honestly could not care much about the media and the gossip. Sammy clears her throat before starting.

“Says here you’re dating Yaz?”

“That’s old news,” he hums, already thinking back to the time that he and Yaz dated. Long story short, they were too stubborn for each other, sometimes getting on each other’s nerves and clashing with each other. They’re better off as friends.

“But what would happen if it gets out though, like we dated in the past,” Kenji sighs, “can I like… I don’t know, get some percentage on how bad it could go if it does get out?”

“Don’t ask me,” Yaz now is staring at the ceiling with her phone on her chest, “I’m a sociology and psych major. I can’t do maths.”

“Psych has maths in it,” Sammy says, Yaz rolls her eyes in response, “and like I’m a gender studies and history major. I can’t do maths.”

“Anyways,” Kenji turns his attention back to Sammy, “what’s next?”

“Says here that you bought Gucci and had a random photo shoot by yourself in the park.”

“That one’s true.”

“Thought so,” Sammy sighs, getting off the desk and joining Yaz on the bed, “oh Kenji, have you picked your outfit? Nothing too out there, it’s a royal wedding after all.”

“I have like no clue on what you’re talking about.”

Yaz literally gasps, and like, she never does that.

“Royal wedding? Prince Jason’s wedding?”

It takes a few moments in Kenji’s mind to go from absolutely nothing, to information about the legal system— _which reminds him he needs to revise him more—_ then back to the messy schedule that he made in his mind.

“Shit.” Kenj puts his hand on top of his head, groaning, “forgot about that.”

“Dude, it was like _everywhere_ ,” Yaz says, “and I knew about it, and like, I never keep up with bullshit info like this.”

“Fuck the monorachy,” Kenji sits on his chair, turning it so he can face them.

“Please don’t stick your dick inside Jason, or the queen, or anyone in the royal family,” Yaz hums, by now she has Sammy’s head on her chest. It’s a quiet and intimate thing that Kenji will never get, because Sammy is the only exception to Yaz’s no physical touch rule. 

“Or Ben,” Sammy hums.

“Prince Ben, your royal _fucking_ highness,” Kenji says. 

“Can’t wait to see your arch nemesis,” Yaz says.

“He’s not my arch-nemesis.”

“The media always compares rivals the both of you, it’s like the whole UK vs. America thing all over again.”

“...okay fine I hate him.”

“Look at you, admitting something for once,” Yaz chirps.

Kenji throws a pen at her from the desk, she yelps.

“But like seriously y'all,” Sammy sits up, “please don’t cause an international scandal, the press team is already at full capacity.”

“I won’t do anything.”

They stare at him, though Yaz squints.

  
“Promise?” Yaz raises her eyebrow.

He nods.

“But like, I don’t know what to wear,” Kenji says, turning around to face his laptop to look through his saved tabs, apparently he made a pinterest board last night with outfit ideas, some outrageously so good that Roxie will _definitely_ not approve or, “most of these I can’t wear, can y’all help me?”

“I”m too tired,” Yaz replies.

“I can,” Sammy gets up from the bed, sitting on top of his desk as he turns his laptop towards her. She puts it on her lap.

“What a shame you can’t wear any of them—but I do like that one! And that one! And this one!”

“All of them look so good,” Kenji puts his head on the desk, “I’m gonna end up wearing some boring suit.”

“But you’ll look better than like half of the white men in there.” Yaz hums.

“Thanks babe,” Kenji says.

“Never call me that.”

“I’ll send a couple to Roxie,” Sammy says, already typing up an email.

“Is Dave gonna be there? Doesn’t he have like two jobs or something like that?”

“Yeah, he also works for the royal family.”

“What?”  
  


“Yeah,” Sammy gives Kenji’s laptop back to him, “bodyguard for both you and Prince Ben.”

“Did he tell you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty sure that’s breaking contract laws,” Kenji leans back on his chair, “that could cause a scandal.”

“Eh,” Sammy shrugs, “whatever.”

He sighs, going on his instagram to take a photo for his organized desk setup for his story. It puts up the illusion that not only is he attractive, he also studies. And like, that’s the most important thing for his image that his mum’s press team keeps pounding on him.

They’re titled the _White House Trio,_ a strategic plan for three marketable Gen Z’s who are attractive and relatable, having a bright future to change the future for the better. Kenji is the cool and handsome one that tweets things that bridge just the _‘you shouldn’t be tweeting this because you’re the son of the president’_ but somehow works. He’s the fashion icon.

  
Yasmina is the edgy leftist in the group, with no filters and will call out anyone— _mainly politicians_ —on social media, he’s glad he’s never been tagged by her, her ability to humiliate anyone with surprising accuracy and factual evidence is terrifying. That and tweeting about her current interest (currently it’s TikTok), she’s never active on social media. That’s her thing, leaving it all mysterious. She also has a weird knack with things all to do with STEM (especially coding) and running that she tweets about once a in blue moon.

Sammy meanwhile is loud on social media, she’s the sweet and bubbly one in the group and talks too much about either rom-com movies or political theories (“It’s the range,” she said) on twitter, her instagram filling up with aesthetically pleasing photos of the white house and all three of them, with a few bits of cooking and gardening videos here and there.

But right now, they’re just Sammy, Kenji and Yaz. Who’s been best friends since they were born and getting into much trouble. He remembers how it would happen back in high school, Sammy would tell them not to follow through with the plan but Yaz’s unusual rebellious tendies flares up as Kenji goes on for the ride.

He smiles, “you know that I love you guys so much?”

“Love you too,” Sammy hums.

“Enough of this mushy stuff,” Yaz replies.

===

The luxury of private planes is something he’ll never get over. He’s always been privileged in terms of money before his mum ran for president, but it’s a different type of luxury when you’re travelling to a royal wedding on a private plane that he just likes. Kenji sighs, leaning back on his leather seat and putting his feet on the tiny mahogany coffee table. 

In front of him Sammy is reading a book called _A Taste of Honey_ , which is some sort of play. He looks to his right, where Yaz is scrolling through her phone while Roxie is sleeping. He thinks about throwing a pistachio at Roxie, but then he thinks about the fact that they manage all three of them + is his mum’s right hand for practically anything + is their primary bodyguard. She deserves this nap.

He throws it at Yaz instead, she doesn't budge.

“You’re no fun,” he says.

“Go away and bother someone else,” Yaz hums.

“Don’t bother me, I’m reading,” Sammy mumbles.

“I’m so bored.”

“Think about the royal wedding.”

“Royal weddings are stupid,” Kenji groans, “fuck the monarchy.”

“Don’t fuck the monarchy,” Sammy and Yaz says in unison.

“I thought the royal family’s bad. So like, shouldn’t we be supporting in fucking the royal wedding.”

“Just… don’t stick your dick in any of them,” Yaz hums, “but metaphorically fuck the royal family.”

“Stop saying fuck, dick and the royal wedding in the same sentence, ya’ll are throwing me off my reading,” Sammy whines.

“Anyways,” Kenji turns his body to face Yaz, “what do I have to expect for this whole royal wedding?”  
  


She puts her phone down on the coffee table, “I don’t know, just like a normal wedding but 10x worse? Can’t believe they spent $75,000 bucks on a cake.”

“It does look pretty though,” Sammy chimes in before turning a page.

“Like the only good thing I’m looking forward to,” Kenji says, “but like did you hear about Prince Ben?”

“Oh here we go,” Yaz rolls her eyes at him. He goes to scroll through his news feed on his phone.

“From what I’ve heard,” he clears his throat, getting ready with his posh, english accent, “Prince Ben, may or may not be a bachelor anymore. Rumoured to be dating a Norwegian princess a few weeks ago, though everyone seems divided if the rumour is true or not.”

“It’s cute how obsessed you are with him,” Yaz says. Sammy giggles.

“I hate him.”

“You love him, enemies to lovers, 300k, slowburn—”

“You guys suck.”

“—First son of the president falls in love with the prince of England? Match made in heaven,” Yaz says, deliberately softening her voice, he hates it.

“But fuck the monarchy, not literally” Kenji says,

“I’ll drink to that,” Yaz says. Kenji laughs, and the plan soars through the sky.

===

Kenji smooths down his black velvet suit and gold tie as they get into the car, it’s as close as he is to making a ‘statement’ in a royal wedding without making another scandal. He sees London through the tinted windows, with Prince Jason and his bride’s face in every block they turn. But the city itself has some sort of magical feel which Sammy would like in terms of aesthetic, cold and rainy days , wearing trench coats and drinking tea. He respectfully declines it though, he likes warm weather and beaches.

But besides the cake he’s actually sort of, weirdly-ish excited to go to the wedding for other things. He’s genuinely curious to see how grand the wedding will be, and luxury is in his blood. And it does meet his standards during the ceremony, grand spectacles hiding behind traditions that makes it easy to hide how bad and problematic the royal family is.

They quickly husher themselves into the Buckingham Palace ballroom with soft red carpets and walls bedazzled with all things gold, with intricate designs. Everything looks nice, except for the lanterns, which looks tacky to Kenji in his opinion. The trio stares at the newly-wed couple, and the photographers eating up their dance.

From the untrained eye, they look in love with stars in their eyes. But Kenji knows this is just to keep the bloodline pumping and alive, with Prince Jason’s grand title and Audrey’s respectable politics and daughter role. It’s romantic like any 3-star royal rom-com movies, with a dry cut and paste royal romance.

He peers his gaze away from the couple and checks his camera roll, looking to see if his hair is still gelled up nicely. He fixes a few bits and pieces. Yaz nudges him on the shoulder to put it away. 

“Fine,” he pockets his phone.

“You have to look interested,” Yaz hums, she smoothes her simple violet dress, her purse sitting on her lap, “it’s a challenge to get through these men talking about whatever they’re talking about.”

“I know right,” Sammy brushes the dust from the shoulders of her white cocktail dress with floral patterns at the bottom, “someone asked me about their opinions about the royal family just to nod and smile and say that they’re lovely,” she sighs.

“Fuck the monarchy,” Yaz and Kenji says in unison.

“Fuck the monarchy,” Sammy replies, folding the napkin on the table, “though the cake looks amazing. Did you guys take a picture of it already?”

“Already did,” Kenji says, “but like, do we even eat it? It has gold and flowers and stuff on it, six feet tall.”

“It probably tastes like paper,” Yaz says, and all three of them quietly chuckles. Kenji is about to open his mouth up until a royal attendant-person-whatever appears out of nowhere behind them.

“Miss Yasmina Fadoula,” he says, bowing _graciously_ , “His Royal Highness Prince Ben was wondering if you’re more than happy to do him the honor of accompanying him for a dance.”

If he wasn’t one feet away and they weren’t in a royal wedding with cameras everywhere, Kenji would’ve bursted out laughing. Instead he focuses on his composure, biting on his lower lip but still letting a shit-eating grin spill out. Sammy has a huge, genuine smile on her face.

“Of course, it’s not mandatory—”

“—of course she’s more than happy to join Prince Ben for a dance,” Sammy says with a cheery tone.

“Y-Yes,” she stands up, putting her purse on the table, somehow maintaining a soft smile while giving a look at Kenji that says _I will kill you_ , “I’m more than happy to dance with him.”

“Excellent, follow me,” he says, and the both of them disappear into the crowd.

“Holy shit,” Kenji chuckles, “she’s gonna hate us.”

“She’s gonna love it,” Sammy says, “she just needs to get out of her shell for a bit. This is good for her.”

“Definitely not,” Kenji says, taking a drink from his fancy glass of champagne, “she hates attention.”  
  


He looks for them in the crowd, and there they are again, but this time there’s Yaz and Prince Ben. There he is in flesh, with soft brown hair and kind, grey-blue eyes that crinkles in the corners as he flashes his usual simple smile that he’s seen in so many magazines. His style isn’t royal handsomeness, instead it’s a kind and shy handsomeness with soft round cheekbones. It even shows in his three-piece suit that is tailored to look effortless but not too tight. He holds himself up like a royal would, though when he brings his hands out for Yaz to take he sees the tiniest bit of shakiness.

Weird.

“Hello Yasmina,” he says, “do you know how to Waltz?”  
  


“Um…” she pauses, looking worriedly back at Kenji and Sammy before turning her attention back to him, “I’m a fast learner, I-I’m sure I can pick it up quickly.”

“It’s not a problem, I can teach you,” he says.

They disappear into the twirling mess of boring suits and slightly mediocre dresses. Though about five seconds later they reappear again, and it seems that Yaz has quickly picked up on. She has a steady neutral smile and is directly looking at Ben with a slight discomfort, she’s amazing though. But he’s not paying any attention to her at all, his eyes off somewhere else, there’s a bit of hesitation and worry on his face as he looks over her shoulder.

“But like, do you know he actually likes her?” Sammy says, “they look kinda adorable together though.”

“Gross,” Kenji says, “but I do feel like it’s something else.”

He looks at them again and notices a flash of cameras from the, media though Ben’s composure seems to slip more and more just a little bit.

“Oh... “ Kenji bites his lip, “there it is. For the fucking media.”

“I should save her soon,” Sammy says.

“And I’m going to get drunk,” Kenji calls over a waiter for more champagne, because quite frankly he can’t stand Ben’s face anymore. It’s how he finds himself with a slight buzz in his mind that allows himself to let himself loose just a little bit more. He’s in a place where he can reflect _why_ he hates Prince Ben, but not enough to dive deeper on how they met.

He thinks it’s some sort of jealousy that can’t be helped, always wondering what it was like to be a prince of England. To be Prince Ben, to stand there and be a figurehead of a royal family, constantly getting praises by being a shy but sweet prince while Kenji is constantly under fire in the media, with a lot of emphasis on the word _‘uncivilised_ ’

  
And Kenji knows it’s not Ben’s fault, but it’s not _fair_ . He only decided to pursue law because of a sudden self-reflection when his mum ran for president, looking at the state of things and how he drifted through his days like a ghost. Then he thought that he could make something out of himself if he went towards politics or law, that he could make a name for himself, actually do _something_ for once. That, he could prove to his dad that he _could_ be something.

He has to work ten times harder than his white peers to maintain his perfect image, striking the balance between what his press team wants him to be vs his image of being a promising career in congressmen with a focus on civil rights. Everytime he does something or slips up, the tightrope he’s walking on gets thinner. And even the things he does that pisses off the convserative media, no matter how much he loves it, bites him back in the ass.

It’s either make yourself small or make yourself known.

It’s a scary thing to walk the line.

He clears his throat to stand up, deciding that he’s had enough. He leaves behind the comfort of Sammy and Yaz’s conversations and walks towards the giant $75,000 cake, decorated with rose gold and other intricacies. He turns to take a glass of champagne from the table and turns to Prince Ben.

“You look rather lonely,” Kenji takes a sip from his drink. Staring at the ballroom, it’s hushered down after an hour off the newly-wed dance.

“Kenji Kon,” Ben says softly, a mix of a weird posh accent somewhere there.

“Prince Ben,” Kenji says, “you mind if I give you some company?” 

“I don’t mind at all,” Ben says, because what good would it do if he says no? Kenji would’ve stayed anyway. 

“This wedding is quite lovely, though the lanterns are quite tacky.”

“Then you should take your… _complaints_ to the interior designers, though I don’t see why they should change the lanterns, it’s tradition not to change anything in the palace,” Ben takes a glass of champagne and just holds it, just so his hands could do something. A part of Kenji wants to see him in a different light, with none of these fancy talk and see what he _really_ is, break open his shell and see who he is.

There’s a tiny part of him now.

Ben hates social events. He taps his thumb against the glass and keeps looking around like there’s cameras everywhere. 

“Hmm…” Kenji says, “I’m going to be real upfront here, what’s your deal with Yaz?”

“Yasmina Fadoula? I don’t know what you mean, I-I just wanted to dance with her, I don’t see what’s got to do with you,” Ben turns to face him, and he can see his eyes clearer now. Under the golden haze from the lights it looks like the glossy but slightly opaque quartz. It’s rather weird.

Kenji clears his throat, “oh, I was just curious. I mean from the looks of it you really don’t like the media attention, and you _hated_ dancing with her. But… you still did it anyway, I just find it… _weird_.”

He watches Ben’s front fall apart a bit more in front of him, downing a whole glass of champagne as puts his glass down before crossing his arms like a sort of wall between them. Kenji grins, already getting a kick out of this.

“Are you really trying to psychoanalyse me?” He scoffs, refusing to look at Kenji.

“Who said I was? I’m just merely observing, like how the cameras are,” Kenji hums.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ben biting his lower lip in frustration. _Good_.

“I really don’t think you know who I am,” Ben says, fixing the cuffs of his suit, “but I could do the same to you, honestly. I have done nothing but ask your friend to a simple dance, and yet you seem so defensive already within a switch. You’re rather impulsive, Kenji.”  
  


Kenji puts his hands into his pockets and lets his fingers dig into his palm, “yeah, everyone knows that, it’s like my brand.”

“And top of that, I’ve never made any attempt to try to contact you and yet through it all, you make the excuse that I asked your friend to a dance in order to find me. I just find it… _weird_.”

  
“Fuck off,” Kenji murmurs a bit too loudly.

“Watch your language,” Ben hums, “and your drink, perhaps you should switch to water instead, or some cordial? Would that help?”

Even though there’s a bit of nervousness in Ben’s voice he’s still biting back at Kenji, and he hates how he can do that all while maintaining a calm-ish composure with so much politeness that he can stick it up his royal ass. Kenji grits his teeth, already wanting to fly back to America. He thinks he already hates England.

“Lovely chat,” Ben hums, “enjoy your evening Kenji,” he turns to walk away from Kenji. A split second decision burns with a sort of annoyance, because he’s not letting him get the last word in. Maybe it’s the drink in him, or the fact that he just _hates_ the prince of England. But he goes to reach for his shoulder to pull him back.

And when Ben turns there’s a burst of his actual personality inhis eyes, his slightly gaped mouth as he pushes Kenji back. He goes to reach for something, and that something is Ben. And in a excruciating split of a second that feels like ten years they fall backwards onto the table—

—And back towards the $75,000 royal wedding cake.

They knock the wedding cake backwards, with some of the buttercream and frosting landing on them, mixing in with the drinks to create one, sad and disgusting mess. The whole room goes into a terrifying silence.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he hears Ben mumble next to hm.

His fate seals itself with a grill from his mum and Roxie as he hears the sound of a camera go off.

  
  



	2. the great literature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda don't like this chapter, but i don't really care tbh lol. also btw im going to be deviating and taking out things from rwrb to make this fic shorter and more consise, and also adding things in and such
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated <3

Roxie slams the newspapers onto the wooden table. With the photo of him and Ben on the floor, with the destroyed $75,000 dollar cake turned into tiny broken pieces, buttercream on their suits . At least his hair looked good in the photo.

_The $75,000 cake debacle_

_FSOTUS sparks American-English war with Prince Ben!_

Kenji looks up at Roxie, her hair tied up in a lazy ponytail while she downs her second cup of coffee of the day. It’s 8 in the morning.

“Is Dave here?”

  
“Stop trying to change the subject,” she says in a tense tone, her voice unwavering and still. It’s like her version of yelling at this point. He puts his hands up as an apology.

Roxie sighs, “I just… why do you even hate him?”

He doesn't say anything and lets himself think over why he hates him, digging deeper and deeper. He thinks it’s just an itchy annoyance everytime he looks at him, with his gentle smiles and polite personality. He’s the perfect image of what a prince charming should look like, but he’s too passive and quiet for Kenji. And he hates that. He wants to pull him out of whatever shell he’s in and watch him come alive.

And he can’t do that. It just irritates him and does his head in.

He shrugs in response. 

At the other end of the table is his mum, who’s giving him a death stare right now. He doesn’t know what she’ll do to him, because there’s always a difference between her and _President Aimy Kon_ , who grew up with luxuries and turned it against the rich and pursued a career in politics, refusing to fall into a stereotype. Six years ago she was arguing about systemic racial issues and capitalism in front of the Supreme Court, now here she is, the first asian woman president right in front of him.

She also looks like she’s going to kill him.

“Kenij,” Aimy starts, but she falters, “I just can’t do this right now.”

“I’m sorry but he started it—”

“—sweetheart, quite frankly the media does not give a single shit on who started it or not,” she heaves a soft sigh, “this is like my nightmare come to life, and already so close to the re-election. I really don’t have time to deal with this right now so I’m just gonna have Roxie do it all for me,” she stands up, smoothing down her grey pantsuit, walking towards the door, stopping to give Kenji a kiss on top of his head.

“You’re an idiot, don’t get killed,” she says, before walking out the door, her faint footsteps of her high heels echoing in the hallway. Meanwhile Roxie slams a folder in front of him.

“I was up doing this all night and getting Dave to help me to, so I don’t wanna hear any of your complaints.”

“Is he here though?” He asks again.

Roxie nods disappointingly, opening the folder with the first page that says _Agreement of terms_. There’s a coffee stain on the front page.

  
“Uh…” Kenji scratches the back of his head.

“You, are going to be all nice and fluffy with Ben. You’re leaving on Sunday to some weird library in London to pretend that you care about great literature.” 

“Fucking hell,” Kenji says, already having flashbacks to his English classes back in high school.

“Yeah,” she flips through the pages, “and you’re going to remember all of these pages which contains _everything_ about his life, you’re going to pretend that you’ve been best friends this whole time and your little accident was just a little bro-fight. The White House and the royal family is gonna release a statement soon about the incident.”  
  


Kenji wishes the earth would completely swallow him whole and reincarnate into his next life, “He has the personality of a ball of yarn,” he murmurs.

“Kenji, I _really_ couldn't care less,” she sighs, “just remember all of his fact sheet and pretend to be best friends. You can’t get out of this.”

“Fuck the monarchy,” Kenji murmurs.

“Please don’t cause another scandal,” Roxie dead-pans.

===

Under _hobbies_ , it says reading and writing poetry. He’s going to set himself on fire. 

Him, Yaz and Sammy are sitting inside the library room of the White House, with dusty antique maroon rugs and uncomfy chairs. The room is stuffy, but Sammy insists that this room has a certain ‘vibe’ that makes it one of the best rooms out of the White House. Kenji is laying on his stomach on the floor, mind-numbingly reading Ben’s fact sheet. A metre away from him, Sammy’s reading Yaz’s tarot cards.

Sammy and Yaz have a sort of bond that Kenji can never read, only available to the two of them. They’re practically sun and moon, two perfect opposites of each other. It’s actually kind of poetic that Ben would probably write in his diary.

“...so the love of my life is closer to me than I expect?” Yaz asks.

“Yeah,” Sammy replies, shuffling the card back again, “but the cards say that you shouldn’t try too hard, let nature take its course.”

“Hm,” Yaz hums, “makes sense.”

Kenji groans, “can _you_ read my cards please.”

“No, go away,” Sammy says, “go read your fact sheet of that royal prince of yours.”  
  


“It’s not even my fault that the cake fell,” Kenji says, closing the giant folder in front of him, “do you think that Roxie wrote one of these too?”

“Yep,” Yaz scrolls through her phone, not bothering to look up, “it’s probably one of the lowest points of her life.”

“You guys are mean.”

“You love us,” Sammy buts in.

He sighs, rolling closer to the two of them, his cheek squishing against the itchy carpet, “then _help_ me.”

“How are we supposed to help you?” Yaz flicks his forehead, he slaps her finger away.

“I don’t know, help me remember this?” Without turning, he grabs the folder and opens under the _hobbies_ , “it says here that he writes poetry for fun? For fun?”

“We read for fun,” Yaz says, putting down her phone take the folder.

“Yeah, but you read cool theory papers about life and stuff,” he says, “he probably like… reads love letters or classical romance stuff.”

“Well if he does, I think it’s lovely,” Sammy says, stealing the folder from Yaz, “and quiet nice! It even says that his favourite book is _Pride and Prejudice_ , the evolution of Darcy and Elizabeth’s relationship is rather poetic—” Kenji cuts her off with a long and loud fart sound, “—y'all are mean!”

“Stop trying to protect the inbred prince. He reads _Pride and Prejudice_.”

“Yeah. Like. Um. Who reads that,” Yaz coughs.

“Exactly!” Kenji rolls over so he’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, “I hate him so much,” he mumbles.

“Why do you even hate him?” Yaz hums, “like outside of all that rival stuff.”

He goes silent, not wanting to delve too deep into it all. He puts his hands on top of his chest, feeling it rise and fall under his breaths, “I… I just do, okay?’

Sammy hums, she puts her hands together and sighs.

“I thought you guys cared about me though,” Kenji whines, “help me remember this?”

“Listen,” Sammy says, “as much as you’re basically my step-brother at this point and always tries to pull you out of the trouble that you get into,” she pauses, and she’s right, though he thinks that Yaz cares abit more than Sammy, she doesn’t show it, but they will move half-way across the country just for him, they’re family at this point, “and we love and overall just support you in your decision.”

“It sounds like I’m coming out to you—”

“—we’re not reading a prince’s fact sheet, we don’t hate ourselves enough for that.”

Kenji groans, turning his attention back to the fact sheet to flip over the next page. It says that his favourite food is _Oatmeal._ Who likes Oatmeal? He flips through a couple of pages, stopping at the _friends_ section. Brooklynn (no last name given, strange), a famous blogger who travels around everywhere to ‘unpack the world’.. 

There’s also Darius Bowman, another internet personality type person who’s a gamer and an intense dino-nerd. The both of them though help in humanitarian efforts and non-profit organisation. It’s the two most out of place people he’d think of that has a connection to the royal family.

He decides to stalk the two of them on social media.

===

He finds it strange that Dave is meeting him not in the White House, but in the cold land of England. A couple of agent-looking guys take his luggage as Dave helps him into the Land Rover. Behind him Roxie follows, she insisted in going with him. She shuts the door behind him, and Kenji finds himself sitting in the middle, with Dave to his left and Roxie to his right.

“I don’t need you to babysit me,” Kenji says as they drive off, “I have Dave with me.”

“I don’t trust Dave enough,” Roxie mumbles, taking a sip of her coffee as she turns her attention to Dave, “and shouldn’t you be wearing some fancy costume for the royal family?”

“You should know that I, Dave, is an interesting exception to the royal family mind you,” Dave hums, “Prince Ben likes me enough.”

“I like, seriously don’t understand how you have a job here and at the White House,” Roxie says.

“I work in mysterious ways,” Dave hums, passing a couple of scary looking contract papers and a pen to Kenji, “sign this, don’t ask me to translate it to you. It looks like a garble to me.”

Kenji stares at Roxie for an answer.

“Lawyers already approved it, you’re fine,” she hums. He signs it without looking, already too tired to care about all of this. All he has to do is show up and leave England in one go. He’ll be fine.

“After this, I won’t have to see him again, right?’

“Your mum already invited him to some dinner for a couple of months, you’re in it for the long ride Kenji Kon.”

He whines.

He steps into the grounds of the garden in the Kensington Palace, dreading as he sees the royal photographer sweeping in to take photos of the purple tulips, Kenji stops near a body of water in the right down the middle. Looking at his reflection he stares at his hair, he opted to let his hair fall into it’s natural loose curls today instead of gelling it as usual.

Roxie clears his throat next to him. He stands up straight, seeing Ben right in front of him, sitting on a chair, with a cup of tea and some random classical literature book in his hands. His lightly tousled hair in the sunlight looks almost like bronze, mixing in with gold. He looks good, except for the hideous brown pants with a leather belt, tucked in with a button up blue shirt and finished with dress shoes.

Ben forces a smile at him, standing up and taking his hands into a handshake. Kenji grips his hand too hard, enjoying how Ben grimaces at him. A part of him thinks that what he’s wearing is too much for a photoshoot, loose white dress pants, lightly tucked in a grey sweater with intricate face embroidered into it. It’s a personal commission.

But fuck it, he’s going to outdress _any_ royal in this land of tea and monarchy.

Kenji lets his hand go, remember that they have to act like they’ve been friends this whole time, “I want to murder you in cold blood,” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“At least you're sober right now,” Ben bites back with a fake laugh, Kenji is slowly learning that Ben has a bit of fight in him. Interesting.

“Only for your royal fucking highnes,” Kenji says..

“I wish I could throw you into the dungeon,” Ben says. Kenji responds with a wide smile that feels like plaster on his face. He hears another click from the camera.

“That wouldn’t be very nice of you, your _highness_ ,” Kenji says, meeting his glossy blue eyes, then over to his pasty clear skin. He probably uses diamond embedded face masks and snow taken from Mount Everest to exfoliate his skin. Kneji can’t complain though, he already goes to his personal dermatologist to perfect his skin every fortnight.

“Let’s get this over and with,” Ben says. 

“Gladly.”

The one thing he’s looking forward to is the interview, which is apparently gonna be right here in the garden. He watches them set up the chairs and cameras, going over technical issues while someone puts on foundation to cover his eyebags. He looks into the mirror, letting a low sigh. Next to him Ben is reading while Dave refills his cup of tea, he’s a bit like a coil built up with tension, through the way he intensely stares at his book then looking around like someone’s watching them.

They set up is simple and elegant for the interview, they sit on antique garden chairs while Oprah— _it’s not still clicking that she’s interviewing them, and it’s scary_ —clears her throat.

“...so how is England Kenji?” She asks, he gives her a gentle smile.

“It’s actually quite lovely. And the art here is absolutely beautiful and I’ve been here a few times more than I really should,” Kenji chuckles, leaning over to Ben, putting his hand on his shoulder, he feels him tense under his touch, “but of course, it’s always nice seeing this guy.”

Ben follows a bit too late but to everyone they wouldn’t even notice, he laughs, “he always gets into all sorts of trouble with the royal guards.”

Kenji lets out a laugh, an actual laugh that he didn’t need to fake. Within that second, he starts to think that maybe they could be something, like friends. He’s starting to see the hidden depths of him through the little pieces that fall out of his facade, he wonders if there’s something else under all of it all.

He shakes the thought away until it can become something else.

===

It’s really weird how before his mum was elected, all he wanted was to live in a mansion and dressed in luxury. But it felt like he was being his dad, following down on the footsteps that he laid behind him. So he thought that maybe, he can become something else. Not become something like _him_.

He wants to pursue something in politics, and it’s not something that someone would think if someone saw him. But he _does_ care, under all of the gold watches and the heart-throb image that they carefully fed the media. He _genuinely_ cares. 

Staying up way too late to study bills proposed by the literal incarnation of the devil from the right named Macmillan Mantah (“Who the hell has that name,” Yaz said”) who’s running for president, he names his whole campaign _Mantah Corp_ (“That’s weird,” Sammy commented). He reads history cases for his thesis paper about how white supremacy works by dividing communities and splitting them apart. Because he knows how it feels, to be criticized under a lens and labelled _other_. To feel invisible yet visible at the same time. He knows how it feels. It’s exhausting. 

And he does care about literature and education. It’s essential to understanding a lot of things about the issues in the current system.

But not when it’s old white men with outdated messages, praised by high school english teachers. He wants to scream at Ben’s robotic smiles as they step into the one of the grand libraries in England, with antique books and the air smelling of too much tea. Photographers follow them, just Ben talking to random kids about how important it is to ‘conserve the literature world’. 

He has to be here, so he tries his best to act interested by walking around, looking at the bookcases, letting his fingers drag against the dusty shelves and spines of the books. He hears something, a faint voice. He peeks through the bookcases and sees Ben sitting on the floor, reading a book to five other kids.

There’s no cameras here. He’s alone. He peeks further, seeing Ben unguarded, a lazy smile on his face as he flips onto the next page.

“...his love is something else,” Ben reads, he pinches the corner of his lips when he concentrates, “it transforms into something else completely, tucking itself into the corner of him, where it smells like nothing but comfort. His love is something outside of the borders that no one will ever understand. It is the most beautiful thing that they share, that they will have to hide it into the corners of their lives.”

Ben closes the book. Kenji decides he shouldn't be seeing this; he walks backwards and trips over nothing, making a noise. He sees Ben peek around the corner, holding the book in his hands with so much tender and care.

“Oh,” Kenji says, the kids begin to stand up, “hey.”

“Hi,” Ben says awkwardly. 

They make the way outside because apparently they had enough of the library, he thumbs over his twitter timeline, seeing Yaz go on a weird banter with Sammy. Suddenly a loud booming noise echoes all over the library, following a rush of voice and a shuffle of feet. Dave thinks fast, shoving the two of them into the janitor’s closet.

“Stay here, sorry,” he says, before closing the door on them and plunging them in darkness. Kenji groans, shoving Ben’s feet away from his face as he puts on the flashlight on his phone.

“Your feet’s digging into my ribs,” Ben yelps.

“Good.”

“You’re _such_ an asshole.”

“Thank you. I do my best.”

“You’re _suffocating_ me,” He yelps, shoving Kenji away from him. He does so surprisingly, and he’s taken back by the sheer strength from him. They manage to detangle themselves, their feet only an inch apart. There’s a broomstick on Kenji’s hair, he smacks it away.

“I swear to god if I die in here because of _you_ ,” Ben groans as he moves away the cleaning supplies, “it’s _disgusting_ in here,” he fishes hand sanitizer from his pocket, squirting it into his palms and rubbing his hands together.

“Why are you blaming me?”

“Because I hardly do these things, and when I do it’s like once every year or so,” he says, “and because of _you_ , now we have to pretend that we’re _best friends_ and here we are, in a closet, stuck together.”

“Not my fault you were an asshole to me,” Kenji whispers, looking away from Ben and checking his phone, he’s honestly a little terrified, but on the outside he’s all chill and calm, “then maybe the cake wouldn’t have fell.”

“I’m the asshole?” Ben scoffs, “ you’re the asshole!”

“You’re the fucking asshole for using Yaz for the media,” Kenji says back, folding his arms together. He stares more intently at Ben, he’s avoiding his gaze at all costs. Silence stretches between them, but the seconds stretch the more he sees Ben starts to get a little terrified. He watches his face shift into many emotions, he’s biting his lip, rubbing his fingers together and staring at the door like it’s gonna suddenly open and reveal something that’s gonna kill them.

He watches Ben’s throat bob, looking at his feet, “I just think… my mum wanted me to step out a little bit out of my comfort zone,” he says it like he’s talking to himself, “she said that it would be good for me to dance with her, to get out my shell, to stop standing in the dark and step into the spotlight my brother. So… I’m sorry.”

  
Kenji doesn’t know what to say. He just stares at the floor, going silent. 

“But it’s still not entirely my fault,” Ben says at the end.

“Are you shitting me?” Kenji scoffs, “t-this is the literal reason why I hate you. It’s like… you’re avoiding something just at the end. Stop being a fucking coward for once. I still didn’t forget the first time we met.”

Kenji lets the silence stir around them again, thinking about the time that they first met. He remembers it, before they actually met Kenji would see his face on the cover of the magazinz. There he was, with his polite smile while he’s reading a book, dimples showing and his brunette hair looking soft. He remembers flicking through the pages, seeing the poem that he wrote. 

He doesn’t fully remember it.

But he remembers that one line that says: _don’t cower_ or some corny bullshit. It’s a harsh turnaround when they met at a dinner event when his mum was climbing up the ranks. When he was just fourteen and just suddenly realising his life was turning around.

He remembers seeing him, a simple suit that fitted him. Kenji tried to talk to him, went to his table when he was alone. He stared at his steak like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He said hi to him, to try to be friends. He remembers how Ben lips twitched, stuck in the word between _yes_ and _no_ . It was pushed over the edge to _no_ , as suddenly he’s hounded with reporters and journalists. It felt like he saw someone with an act, a mask or sorts. Like a _coward_.

He hates cowards.

Kenji tried to pull him away.

And Ben shoved him away. Like he wanted to be pounded by journalist who wanted to try to spill the royal family secrets.

That was also where their first spark of rivalry probably came from, but whatever.

“Is that why you hate me?” Ben says, his tone exhausted.

“Yeah,” Kenji lowers his voice, “but I don’t _hate_ you, I just… I don’t know. The media always compares us and I hate it, you’re constantly praised for doing absolutely _nothing_. Then the next they hound me for absolutely everything, and even though half of the time I do it on purpose the other half… it’s hard. You have it so easy, I have to work ten times more than you for everyone to finally recognise that I’m not some plague that’s going to ruin America,” Kenji pauses for a few seconds before continuing, “my mum goes through it too, we both get shit for being not white but she’s also the first woman to be president. And I’m... I’m tired,” he runs his hands through his air, “we’re so tired. I just want a break…”

He looks up to Ben, “I’m… sorry.”

“Please don’t develop some weird white guilt,” Kenji jokes, laughing a little bit over his own joke. He lets the silence stir for a minute, hearing the shuffling of feet outside and voices echoing. 

“So uh… you read,” he says, looking at Ben. It comes out as as judgemental, though it looks like he’s not phased by it.

“Yeah?” Ben says, “I’m getting my degree for literature and history so I think I should like to read.”

“Your favourite book is _Pride and Prejudice_ , how pretentious can you be?”

“...it’s not actually my favourite, though it’s good,” Ben meets his eyes, “it’s actually _Aristotle and Dante discovers the secret of the Universe_.”

“I don’t know what that is,” Kenji says.

“It’s a coming of age romance book—”

“—okay I heard romance and I just switched. I mean like why wouldn’t you just watch a rom-com show or something?:

Ben shrugs, “I think there’s something more to in books. I mean, don’t get me wrong cinematography and the script can convey just as well but books… you can interpret it in your own way.and there’s something about using the perfect amount of words and letters to convey the sort of yearning there,” he looks up at Kenji, meeting his eyes for a moment before taking it off him, “but I don’t know.”

Just as Kenji’s about to open his mouth to speak, the door creaks open and Dave stands in front of him.

“False alarm, it was my fireworks,” he says.

“Why did you bring fireworks to a library?” Ben asks.

“He’s a man full of mysteries, don’t question him _your highness_ ,” Kenji says. He hears Ben groan, and suddenly their little moment there washes over like it was nothing.

Maybe it _was_ something.

===

Just as they step outside, he steals Ben’s phone from his hands before Roxie can scold him about the breaking contracts or whatever. He adds his phone number, naming himself: _Kenji the coolest_ 🤣😎💯

He hands the phone back to him, “there, we probably have to do this more so… here’s my phone number. It’ll be easier.”

Ben reads his contact, “you’re a child.”

“Aww, you love me.”

Ben chokes on a laugh. Kenji steps into the car as they drive to the private airship.


End file.
